


how to say 'i want you'

by breedlejuice



Series: I get tired of running (now I'm running with you) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A sprinkle of angst! Super small, Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Pining Miya Atsumu, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, they are in love your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breedlejuice/pseuds/breedlejuice
Summary: 'I love you,'he thinks. He wants to scream it from the highest of rooftops, but he won’t.Because Sakusa is a man-made marble sculpture. He has sleek, porcelain limbs, all polished and steel strong. And Atsumu finds himself hesitating, his own hands trembling before Sakusa’s body. As Sakusa sits quietly, bathed in morning light at his kitchen table, he doesn’t reach out to touch him. Instead, he feels with his hungry eyes.'I cannot tell you that I want you.'It suddenly seems taboo to him almost, loving someone with art in their veins; someone who is far too good for Atsumu to hold.'But oh, I do. I do. I do.'
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: I get tired of running (now I'm running with you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204910
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	how to say 'i want you'

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii!! This is the partner piece for my previous fic titled, "steps to 'i love you'." Consider this the prequel! This is from Atsumu's POV, unlike the other one, and it can absolutely be read as a stand alone fic!! But if you would like to, you can check out the other one after this, if you haven't read it already!! Okay, that's all. Enjoy : )

Atsumu knows he loves Sakusa. It happened easily, naturally, and with all the grace of the rising sun. Atsumu always had a crush on the taller man, even while they “hated” one another. Things have changed, though. That angry heat has simmered into something lighter, sweeter, and it has all but screeched their animosity to a halt. They’re friends now— _close_ friends, even— and Atsumu’s soul is on fire. 

Admiring Sakusa from afar was already enough to turn his stomach inside out. So, getting to know Sakusa for who he really is sets off sirens in his blood.

Sakusa likes to read on his days off. He likes doing yoga outside when the Earth is warm, and he’ll eat anything that is flavored with lime. 

He has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and it requires careful attention to know when he is kidding. Sakusa is not the ice sculpture he appears to be. Rather, he is quiet with his thoughts and much quieter with his feelings. But little by little, Atsumu is learning; and Sakusa is letting him.

It is new, exciting, and it seems too good to be real most days. But it _is_ real. It is as real as the delicate bow of those pouty lips, as real as Sakusa rustling around in his kitchen. 

And it has all melted into love. 

The team went out for drinks last night. To the surprise of mostly everyone, Sakusa had agreed to come along- after much of Atsumu’s pleading, of course. It made him feel wanted— _important_ , actually— to be the one person who convinced Sakusa to let loose for a while. This morning, he can still feel the shadow of Sakusa’s head on his shoulder. Last night, the midnight eyed man was warm and dizzy from the liquor; more honest. Atsumu took him home, being the more sober of the pair, and allowed Sakusa to spend the night. Atsumu had cradled his body with care, had helped him into his own bed, and took the couch when Sakusa was too tired and intoxicated to stand.

“Did ya have fun tonight, Omi?” he had asked, right before turning out the lights to leave the bedroom. And Sakusa’s slow, sleepy smile still burns behind his eyes.

“Yeah. You were the best part,” Sakusa had replied, just as he’d drifted into unknown dreams. 

A small, pining part of his heart hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was his face dancing inside of Sakusa’s pretty head. 

Atsumu watches Sakusa from the doorway now, a little breathless at the sight. Sakusa isn’t doing anything profound. He is merely seated with his cup of tea, and a cup of coffee for Atsumu because the blonde likes it better— and it takes him apart. Because Sakusa fits well there, with sleepy eyes and his bed hair forming a messy crown. 

There is a little curl falling into Sakusa’s eyes as he reads a news article on his phone, a morning routine Atsumu has come to know. He wants to reach out to brush it away, wants to stroke those high cheekbones with nimble fingers. He wants to shower him in kisses until he’s dizzy, the same way torrential downpour caresses the Earth; but he doesn’t. 

_‘I love you,’_ he thinks. He wants to scream it from the highest of rooftops, but he won’t. 

Because Sakusa is a man-made marble sculpture. He has sleek, porcelain limbs, all polished and steel strong. And Atsumu finds himself hesitating, his own hands trembling before Sakusa’s body. As Sakusa sits quietly, bathed in morning light at his kitchen table, he doesn’t reach out to touch him. Instead, he feels with his hungry eyes. 

_‘I cannot tell you that I want you.’_

It suddenly seems taboo to him almost, loving someone with art in their veins; someone who is far too good for Atsumu to hold. 

_‘But oh, I do. I do. I do.’_

Atsumu was raised in the bright Hyōgo sunshine, with a family full of loud laughs and even louder fights. His parents provided warmth like that from a fire; always blazing and consistent, and always capable of burning. Having a twin meant always sharing something; a last name, a face, and a set of rickety bunk beds. For 15 years of his youth, there was never truly anything that was _his_ alone. His first taste of true individuality came to him at age 16, when he and Osamu dyed their hair behind their mother’s back. The dye job was patchy and brassy as ever, but it felt good to have something that was _his_. It was worth getting grounded and an hour long lecture from their parents. 

That hunger for attention and individuality only grew with him. So, when it comes to love, he loves with a selfishness he cannot always shake. He needs something, needs _someone_ , that is only his alone. And most days, that kind of dedication seems too daunting to ask for, from someone like Sakusa. Getting Sakusa to befriend him was- while a monumental task- a gift, in itself. Most days, he feels unworthy of asking for anything more at all. 

Atsumu is no stranger to pining. He is no stranger to honey sweet smiles or thick, flirty words, all heady and whispered under sheets. Atsumu has kissed many different lips, held several pairs of calloused hands; but none of them were Sakusa’s own. 

Atsumu is used to loving deeply, more used to people leaving, and _always_ used to loneliness before long; he has always been disposable. That has never deterred him from trying again though, from searching for someone new to admire, to pull into bed for days or weeks or one night. Because those touches, those fleeting moments of passion belonged to him _,_ at least for a while. He is always greedy, when he wants to be adored. 

The blonde favors pretty things too, pretty things like a sharp tongue and a deadpan stare, all with a halo of curls to match. 

And Sakusa is the prettiest thing of all. He is not a “say goodbye” kind of beautiful. 

Sakusa is angel faced and stone cold. Sakusa has fairytales and fables written into his bones; he is regal and princely, to a fault. He has onyx black lashes and tiny constellations, one right above his well-manicured brow. He is _ethereal_ , the first and only person to positively floor Atsumu all those years ago. He has since been drowning in soulful eyes and sonic wonder; and Atsumu lives in his orbit.

He makes Atsumu want domestic dinners and starlit walks and all of the commitment that scares him. 

They went from enemies to nothing, from nothing to civil, from civil to taking quiet strolls together in the park. They went from all that emptiness to a bond that makes Atsumu feel so _full_ , too full, and always afraid. Because Sakusa’s trust does not come easy, and so neither does his friendship. So, a relationship beyond something platonic in nature with Sakusa seems unrealistic; unobtainable. For all of his want, and for all of his aching adoration, Atsumu stays silent. 

Because how does one learn to caress the very universe? How does one swallow their pride for a tenderness that cannot be taught? He cannot confess to Sakusa. He is not good enough. 

Before long, he is snapped from his daze. 

“Alright. Out with it, Atsumu.” Sakusa mumbles suddenly, putting down his phone. It shakes Atsumu from his thoughts. 

“Out with what?” he asks, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie instead. 

Sakusa sighs, throwing him an unimpressed stare. Annoyance shouldn’t look so good on him but it does. 

“You’ve been standing there spaced out for a good 5 minutes now. Staring at me the whole time, might I add.” he notes pointedly. Atsumu flushes up to his ears. 

“Tha hell are ya goin’ on about, Omi? I’m just about ta make some coffee, ya should get yer eyes checked. I ain’t starin’ or nothin’.” 

“The cup of coffee I made you is sitting right there. Going cold. Because— as I have stated— you were too busy staring at me to drink it.”

Atsumu frowns, bristling from the embarrassment of being caught. 

“Sorry, I’m just feelin’ tired from last night. Didn’t mean ta make ya upset.” he lies, lacking his usual energy. Sakusa must notice his discomfort because his expression softens. Atsumu is never one to apologize. 

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s fine. Just sit down and drink your coffee, I’m sure it’s still a little warm. There’s half a pot left, if it isn’t.” 

“M’not bein’ an idiot, I’m bein’ polite! Thanks fer tha coffee, Omi. I knew ya cared.” he jokes, taking a seat across from him. 

Sakusa doesn’t roll his eyes like usual, or snark back a witty response. He merely hums in agreement instead, taking a small, delicate sip from his mug. Atsumu follows the movement of his mouth. It sends a flurry of butterflies rippling through his stomach, all with black and blue stardust wings. He tries his hardest to ignore their movement within him. 

The awkwardness fades away around them. They chitter back and forth for a while, sharing gentle laughs and funny memories from the previous night. They don’t talk about the way they cuddled up at the bar, or the tender words Sakusa had whispered on the brink of sleep; and Atsumu is too afraid to mention it. Sakusa may not want him to. 

“We should order some food. I’m craving pizza.” 

Atsumu takes a sip of his coffee, lukewarm but made just for him, and he smiles around the rim of the cup; he will finish every last drop. 

“Are ya stayin’ tha day here then?” he questions curiously. Sakusa freezes before him, cheeks turning a powder pink, and it really is a pretty sight to behold. Atsumu clenches a fist underneath the table. His throat is clogging with confessions, with words from love letters he will never send. 

“Sure. Unless you want me to leave. That is fine, too.” Sakusa murmurs. His tone is bland and composed but his face betrays him. There is a hint of insecurity swimming in those deep, soulful eyes, and Atsumu cannot have that at all. He shakes his head earnestly, fishing his phone out of the pocket of his sleep shorts. 

“Nah, I want ya ta stay. I knew ya loved spendin’ time with me. I just have that effect on people, hm?” 

“As if.” 

“Whatever, ya can deny it all ya want. I know ‘bout tha real deal. Anyways, s’too early fer pizza, Omi, we can order that fer dinner or somethin’. Let’s look fer somethin’ different ta get fer right now.” he says, already opening up UberEats. 

Sakusa snorts, leaning closer to stare along at the menus on the screen with him. “Coach would kill us if he knew we were ordering takeout twice. And that we were out drinking last night, too.” 

Atsumu flashes a cheeky grin his way. “Foster ain’t here though, hm? It can be our little secret.” 

Sakusa smiles back, a tiny upturn of those perfect lips, and Atsumu is _gone, gone, gone_ for him. 

_‘I do not deserve the comets that make up your smile.’_

“I suppose so. Can we do yoga after we eat? We might as well get some form of workout done.” 

This elicits a groan from Atsumu, dramatic and far too loud for the morning hour. Sakusa glares at him but the blonde ignores it with ease. 

“Omi, ya _know_ I hate doin’ yoga. I ain’t all pretty n’flexible like yerself, I wind up lookin’ like a damn clown.” 

Atsumu continues scrolling, unphased and unaware. The sudden hitch in Sakusa’s breath is what stops him. Atsumu pops up a questioning brow, a bit confused at the expression on Sakusa’s face. Then, the words he'd spewed just moments before register inside of his brain: he’d called Sakusa pretty, of all things. 

And it was _true_ , of course. It was one of the truest things to pass his lips. For all of Atsumu’s shameless flirting, there was no trace of teasing in his voice this time. Sakusa will notice this, has most definitely _already_ noticed this— and Atsumu wants to sink through the floorboards. 

“You think that I’m pretty?”

Atsumu flushes, scrambling for some sort of half truth. “Yeah. Everybody thinks yer pretty though, Omi.” Atsumu rattles back, scratching his neck. It is a weak excuse for the slip up but it is the best he is able to come up with. 

“We’re not talking about everyone else _,_ though _._ We’re talking about you _._ ” 

He swallows. “Well, s’not like it’s a big deal or nothin’, is it? Yer pretty, s’just a fact of life. So what?” 

Sakusa’s expression is unreadable. He tilts down his face a fraction, dark eyes locking onto his cup of tea instead of onto him, and Atsumu deflates. 

The tension grows thick, murky like fog passing through forest trees. It controls his lungs. 

There is a lapse of silence before the blonde clears his throat, desperate to change the air. “M’sorry. I didn’t mean ta make ya uncomfortable or nothin’, Omi.” he starts uneasily. 

Sakusa’s eyebrows raise at the claim and he shakes his head in subtle disagreement. “Don’t just assume things. I never say that I was uncomfortable. And I’m _not_ uncomfortable. I’m just... surprised, is all.” 

Atsumu blinks. “Why are ya surprised?” 

Sakusa shrugs his shoulders, averting his gaze once again. There is a familiar dusting of pink traveling over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Atsumu watches the color rise and settle. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t anticipate you finding me attractive. It’s— well, it’s you.”

“And? What’s that supposed ta mean?”

“Nothing bad, I guess. I just mean that you have other options.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t care bout’ tha _‘other options’_ or whatever ya think that I’ve got. Yer tha best option fer me.” he says. “Anyways, m’surpised ya never caught me lookin’ at ya before now.” 

“Do you do it often?” 

“Yeah. Kinda.” he admits. The words are scary to say but it is good to let them free, even with how much is still uncertain. 

Sakusa swallows. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

He fidgets in his chair, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Atsumu wants to do it himself. His hands itch with the need to touch. 

“So, is that why you were staring at me before?” 

And Atsumu, whose heart has leapt into his throat, nods jerkily; it is all he can manage. 

“What were you thinking about while you were observing me?” 

The setter chuckles nervously. “Don’t say ‘observin’’ like that, it makes it sound like yer a science experiment or somethin’.”

The dark haired man frowns, narrowing his eyes. “Shut up, you know what I meant. Just answer.” he says, tone of voice curt. 

Atsumu pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. The weight of Sakusa’s watching eyes on him is heavy, like iron and stone. But looking inside of them is always the warmest welcome home. And Atsumu, with all of his fragile pride, is terrified of Sakusa changing the locks on him. He is terrified of truth. 

“Well, I was thinkin’ about how..”

_‘About how you are worth more than gold.’_

_‘About how I never want to watch you walk away.’_

“About how?”

“Well, about how much I like ya.” 

“Really?”

He nods. “Yep. I hope that’s alright with ya. S’okay if its not. I’ll fuck off, if ya ask me ta.” 

Sakusa looks shocked before him. Yet, the confession is not unwelcome, if the twitch of his growing smile is any telling. Atsumu feels his own lips following the action, and he dares to taste hopefulness. 

“There’s no need to ‘fuck off,’ as you put it. You are not bad yourself. Quite handsome, admittedly. And I do like you. A lot. More than I ever anticipated liking anyone.” 

Atsumu’s eyes blow wide. “Wait, ya like _me_?!” 

“I just said that. You're so noisy.” Sakusa grumbles, shy and soft and _oh_ , Atsumu will never find anyone else that feels so right for him. 

“Like… ya _like_ like me?”

Sakusa chuckles, exasperated. “‘ _Like like_ ,’ ‘Tsumu? Are you 5?” 

“Hey! S’a valid question, Omi! I never imagined ya likin’ anybody, let alone _me_!”

Salusa looks puzzled. “Who else, if not you?” he asks bluntly, like his romantic attraction for Atsumu was the most natural, expected scenario in the world.

“I dunno. Ya just— ya always seemed ta be too good fer somebody like me, ya know?”

_‘You have always been too graceful for all of my noise.’_

He frowns. “You really are stupid, you know that?”

Atsumu splutters. “Hey! Here I am bein’ real with ya and this is how ya talk ta m—”

He never does finish his sentence; and he has never been more willing to shut his fat mouth. Because Sakusa is kissing him. Prissy, moody, _brilliant_ Sakusa, with all of his clipped words and subtle kindness is _kissing_ him. 

Time seems to slow for a moment. It floats carefree around them, like a feather in the air. His lips are warm and pillow plush. They’re dancing with Atsumu’s own, timid but still so _tender._ He can feel the tremble of Sakusa’s hands against his jaw. His mouth tastes like a nebula, like cinnamon and sleep. There are no fireworks, but there is a blistering heat worming through him, curling through his stomach and down to his toes. And it is perfect because it’s him and Atsumu at the kitchen table alone; it’s only them. 

A needy, pining piece of his heart wants to stay in this space with Sakusa’s forever, with his fingers tangling into silky, pillow ruffled hair. He makes a pleased noise when Atsumu tugs at a curl and _oh_ , how he wishes to bottle the sound. It is an unrealistic desire, though. Knowing this doesn’t chase away his hope that life will freeze for a while and become nothing more than their slow hands and even slower mouths, moving together like it is what they’re made to do.

When they break apart it is with hesitance, and with a gentle, heartfelt hum falling from Sakusa’s lips. 

Sakusa peers into Atsumu’s eyes. He has never looked more radiant then now. 

“Hi.” Sakusa whispers, stroking a thumb against his cheek. It is all tender, all good. 

Atsumu’s lips pull into a grin, wide and cheeky and _happy, happy, happy._

“Hi yerself. So, ya really do like me.”

“Yes. As we have established.” 

He laughs, syrupy and smitten. “Bet ya wanted ta kiss me _so_ bad.” he teases, waggling his eyebrows.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. The action is showy but entirely fond. “Unfortunately.” he laments. 

“Yer mean!”

“And you’re insufferable.”

“But ya still want ta be with me?”

“Yeah. I really do.” Sakusa confirms, gentle and _honest._

And Atsumu _melts_ , lava warm and full from the sweet, gentle glow of being wanted. He surges forwards, capturing Sakusa’s lips between his own. And he kisses him _again, again, again,_ until the background fades out and Sakusa is drawn in. Atsumu is still a bit unsure of himself; he doesn’t feel wholly deserving. But as his body moves in rhythm with Sakusa’s own, he thinks that maybe it isn’t about what he “deserves.”

Maybe love is caring enough to _choose_ one another, with ugly thoughts and insecurities included. Maybe it is secrets whispered into the darkness, and those vibrant eyes that bring him back home. Maybe it is every star-bright thing, like fireplace kisses and wishing for good days.

And maybe, just maybe, that is more than enough. 

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it to the end, thank you so much for reading!!! This partner piece was inspired by my friend Cabins, who I did a fun little writing challenge with the other night. If you see this, Cabs: hello!! it's finally finished! <3 Thank you so much to everyone who reads my work. The feedback I've been getting really warms my heart and it makes my days a little brighter, knowing that my work is well received. Every comment makes me smile so brightly. So, say hello down below, if you would like to! : ) stay safe and great, everyone <3


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